


One Foot in Death

by BonesOfBirdWings



Series: Abandoned Fics [2]
Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Minor Character Death, Stiles is an Abhorsen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:12:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonesOfBirdWings/pseuds/BonesOfBirdWings
Summary: Stiles has a Charter mark on his forehead and a bandoleer of bells in the trunk of his car. Werewolves have never been the most dangerous thing in his life.ABANDONED AND UNFINISHED.





	One Foot in Death

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I'm posting a lot of my old WIP for archiving purposes. None are up for adoption, but if you like the idea/characterization/universe, feel free to use it~
> 
> My writing style has changed so much... *cries* Please don't judge me based on these early works.
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr (flightofmorning) or dreamwidth (bonesofbirdwings).

By the time he started kindergarten, Stiles knew the bells better than he knew his own name.

Part of this, of course, was due to the difficulty of his names. He had his public name, which was an impossible Polish garble of consonants, and his true, Abhorsen name, which was Stariel. He just found it easier to refer to himself as Stiles, which was both a shortening of his true name and sounded like his last name, so it was a very respectable nickname, if he did say so himself.

However, part of this was also due to his mother, who, every morning, sat Stiles on her lap and carefully laid the bandoleer on the living room floor.

“Ranna,” she would say, taking his smaller hand in hers and running it over the smallest bell, which was still securely strapped in the bandoleer so that it wouldn’t accidentally ring, “the Sleeper.” She then would move on to the other six bells, each larger than the last. “Mostrael,” she would continue, “the Waker. Kibeth, the Walker.” The leather was smooth under Stiles’ hands and when he would brush the cool silver with his fingers, he could feel a sympathetic tingle in his forehead, where his Charter mark was. “Dyrim, the Speaker. Belgaer, the Thinker.” The mahogany handles of the bells were scuffed and Stiles would rub his fingers over the worn wood, knowing that his ancestors had handled these very same bells. “Saraneth, the Binder. And Astarael, the Weeper,” Claudia, also known as Cladiel, would finish, and then would allow Stiles to run his hands over all of them to try to truly feel the specific resonance of each one.

"They are the reason we, the Abhorsen, exist," Claudia explained one day, running her hand over her little boy's buzzcut. "We could walk in Death without them, of course, but we'd be vulnerable to every malicious creature there. And trust me," she said, staring into Stiles' honey-amber eyes, "with a lineage like ours, every creature is a hostile one.

"And without them," she continued, as Stiles grabbed a length of her long, dark hair to run through his hands, "we couldn't send the dead back into Death when they sometimes make their way into Life. And that, my darling Stariel," she concluded, "is our purpose in life." Stiles smiled up at her from her lap, but Claudia could only muster a small uplift of her lips.

"But if I could…" she murmured as her son ran off to play outside, her voice filled with a bitter, aching sadness. "Oh, my Stariel."

* * *

Stiles knew he didn't have an entirely normal childhood. It was hard to believe his mom's lessons (which she made him promise to never tell anyone about) were the norm when his best friend Scott didn't know how to properly ring a bell (and neither did the rest of the first-grade music class) and he told Stiles enthusiastically that _Goodnight Moon_ and the first Harry Potter book were his favorite bedtime stories, not even mentioning the Book of the Dead (which, Stiles concluded, must be because Scott's mom didn't read it to him - because it was inconceivable that the Book of the Dead wouldn't be someone's favorite book ever). And Scott didn't have to put makeup on his Charter mark every day, because Scott didn't have a Charter mark! In fact, there wasn't another Charter Mage in Stiles' entire class. All of his classmates felt like Stiles' dad, who wasn't part of the flow of the Charter, and not like his mom, who always felt at least a little connected to him, no matter the distance between them.

And he knew that the typical "right-of-passage" out of childhood for most kids was stuff like getting a driver's license and being able to drink or smoke legally, not taking their first walk through Death. But it was their loss, Stiles decided. Because that meant that their moms weren't currently strapping on their bandoleers in preparation for their son's first visit to Death.

"Remember, Stariel," Claudia said, her fingers deftly running over every bell, making sure that each was in its proper place, "we're going to be going only to the second precinct. Why is that?"

"Because the third has the violent waves that sweep the dead away into the fourth," Stiles replied seriously, “and thus isn't a good precinct for a first-timer. But mom," Stiles whined petulantly, dropping his serious demeanor, “why can't we go just a little further? You know I've already memorized all the necessary Free Magic spells to open all the gates and I know the dangers of each precinct. It's not like I'm a novice!"

"Stariel," Claudia said, "that's exactly what you are. I'm very glad that you learned all the proper spells," she continued, holding up a hand to stall her son's protests, "but that's just a requirement to go into Death. What if you got swept along by the current into a deeper precinct of Death? You'd certainly need to know the proper spells to get out. That doesn't mean that we should court disaster by going further into Death than you're ready for."

"But the second precinct's still really dangerous," Stiles said. "I mean, it's a giant whirlpool."

"Yes, Stariel, it is," Claudia agreed. "But I wanted to take you past the first gate at least." She raised one eyebrow, smirking at Stiles. "And it sounds like you're trying to persuade me not to let you go at all.”

"No!" Stiles exclaimed. "Please Mom, we have to go!"

Claudia laughed. "Of course we'll go," she said, ruffling Stiles' hair before pulling him with her to lie back comfortably on Claudia and John's queen-sized bed. "I'm just pulling your leg."

"Now," she continued, with a sudden seriousness, "do you think you're ready for this, Stariel? Honestly. This will be dangerous, and no one would fault you if we put it off a year or two."

Stiles swallowed heavily. "Honestly, Mom," he admitted, "I'm pretty nervous. I mean, I know what to expect, and what I'm expecting is terrifying. But," he continued, "I think I'm ready. Another year wouldn't make it any less scary or me any more ready."

Claudia nodded. "Good reasoning, Stariel." She gripped his shoulder and looked intensely into his eyes. "I am so proud of you," she told Stiles. "You will be a great Abhorsen." Before Stiles could reply, she rolled completely onto her back. "Alright," she said. "You ready to go?"

"Yes, Mom," Stiles replied.

"Good," she said. "Then here we go!"

Stiles closed his eyes and felt for the familiar icy flow of Death. He had never entered it before, but he had been feeling for it since he was young. Instead of just making himself skim over the surface of it, this time, he allowed himself to step into the flow.

He opened his eyes when he felt water tugging at his ankles. "Woah," he breathed, staring at the ocean of still water that stretched out to the horizon in three directions, but ended in a gigantic waterfall in the last direction. "This is more amazing than I had imagined."

He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder. "And more dangerous as well, obviously," Claudia said. "If I was one of the Lesser Dead, _you'd_ be dead now."

"Yes, Mom," Stiles said sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine for your first time," Claudia reassured him. "Just keep your wits about you, okay?” When Stiles nodded, she smiled at him and patted his shoulder before taking the lead and walking towards the waterfall.

Stiles followed obediently behind her. The current, he noticed, was stronger than he had first thought, and he knew why the Book warned against losing your footing in the first precinct. There were unexpected uneven patches under the water, and the one time Stiles stumbled a bit, the current threatened to pull his feet out from under him.

All in all, though, it wasn't anything Stiles hadn't been forewarned about. When they finally reached the waterfall, Stiles stared up at it in amazement. Claudia turned to him expectantly. "Are you going to open the gate?" she finally asked. "Or are we going to wait here until we become dead ourselves?" 

Stiles rolled his eyes at her. "Yeah, sure thing, Mom." Ignoring her retaliatory ruffling of his ear-length hair, Stiles stared at the crashing water and let the Free Magic words roll off his tongue. As he spoke them, it felt as if his mouth was burning, blistering from the inside. He soldiered on, aware that if he stopped, the magic would likely lash out, which would be highly dangerous for both himself and his mother.

Finally, the first gate opened. Claudia smiled at Stiles as he gave a small cheer. She made to step through first, likely to make sure the way was clear for her son, but before she could, inky black tendrils burst from the gate. They wrapped tightly around her as Stiles looked on, frozen in horror. Claudia and the tendrils struggled for a few moments before the tendrils finally spat out her bandoleer, which they must have somehow unhooked from Claudia's back. Then, having separated the Abhorsen from her bells, the darkness pulled the struggling Claudia through to the second precinct, the gate snapping closed behind them. 

"Mom!" Stiles cried out in terror. He ran forward and snatched the bandoleer from the grip of the current before turning back to the gate. The words poured from his mouth even faster this time, and they seared his mouth like fire. But soon enough, the first gate opened again, and clutching his precious burden, Stiles stepped into the second precinct.

The current was much faster here than in the first precinct, the water pulling laterally on Stiles' ankles before spiraling down into a gigantic whirlpool. But Stiles barely noticed any of these details, his attention captured by the fight between his mother and a strange creature with a smoke-like body. The tendrils that Stiles had seen before were attached to the creature where a tail would be on a normal animal, and the creature had the head of a large fox, although the mouth was stretched obscenely wide into a cruel, terrible grin. It had the body of a man though, and was, of course, entirely black. Death tended to leach the colors out of its denizens, and this creature was no exception. 

Clutching the bandoleer, Stiles made to move towards his mother with his precious burden, but was cut off by a sudden laugh from the creature.

**_Oh, my dear boy_** , the creature hissed with a voice that sounded like many, many voices layered on top of each other. **_Not another step if you would._** The tendrils wrapped tightly around Claudia again, completely immobilizing her. **_Now listen closely, little Abhorsen_** , the creature continued. **_This woman here is my bargaining chip - do as I say and I'll let her go._**

"Don't listen to it," Claudia cried out. "Run, baby! Ahh!" she cried out in pain as the tendrils tightened around her in warning.

"Mom!" Stiles called in distress. "No, stop it, you monster!"

The creature chuckled. **_Monster, am I?_** it asked in amusement. _**Well then boy, you better run. Run,**_ it hissed menacingly, _**run all the way back to life.**_ It smiled grotesquely. **_Show me the way,_** it crooned, **_won't you, boy? For your mother's life._**

"No, Stariel!" cried Claudia, before she cut off with a scream, the tendrils tightening to the point of agony.

Stiles wished she hadn't. He had already realized, from the moment that the creature had demanded life again, that he and his mother would likely die down here. He firmly stifled the part of him that cried out for his mom – if he took the creature’s deal, it would violate the trust she had placed in him – he could see as much in her steel-cold eyes. As much as he desperately needed to save his mother, there was no way he would take what was obviously one of the Greater Dead into life. It would be a betrayal of his mom and everything she stood for to do so. After all, it was the Abhorsens' core duty to keep the death down, not to bring them back to life.

And Stiles was first and foremost an Abhorsen. He couldn’t take the deal, he decided, tamping down the screams that wanted to bubble up his throat and burst out his mouth, so his only hope was to use his mother’s bells. He had never actually used them before, having practiced on a set of fake ones at home, but he knew the theory and he knew the technique.

Stiles took a deep breath, steeling himself, and then ran his right hand across the bandolier, his fingers dancing over the bells until he came to the second-largest bell, Saraneth, the Binder.

The creature laughed, a dark, clanging, gravelly sound, like iron being dragged over rubble. **_Oh my dear boy,_** it crooned. **_Do you actually think you have any possible moves at all? Those cute little bells may be able to control my weaker kin, but I'm a thousand years old. You can't control me. Go ahead,_** it said, tilting its head towards the bandolier. **_Ring that bell._** It smirked widely at Stiles. **_It never hurts to try. And I,_** it said, chuckling, **_I can wait. I'm already at the second gate, and it's just one more hop into life. And I grow stronger every day,_** it continued. **_So if you don't help me, well,_** its smoky body rippled in the parody of a shrug, **_I'll get through someday soon. Why just not just accept the inevitable and save your mother in the process?_**

Stiles swallowed heavily and closed his eyes for a long moment. He recognized the truth in that statement – the creature’s Free Magic was bordering on overpowering, and he doubted that his novice-level skills with the bells would be enough to bind the creature to his will. But, he realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach, there was one more way out of this situation.

"Mom," he finally croaked. "I love you so much." Then, before either the creature or Claudia could respond, he shifted his grip from Saraneth's handle to the largest bell, Astarael, the Weeper. He deftly unhooked the bell, and rang it loudly, its deep, mournful sound reverberating across the swirling whirlpool. 

**_No!_** the creature snarled. **_You idiot boy! Sending us all further into Death - that's your grand plan?_**

"I'm not good at accepting the inevitable," Stiles retorted as Astarael's thrumming began to echo in their bones.

Claudia smiled sadly at Stiles, tears glistening in her eyes. "I am-" Her sentence was cut off by the creature, who thrust her underwater.

"Mom!" cried Stiles, but he continued to ring Astarael properly, his mother's lessons about the importance of always handling the bells well to avoid unintended consequences at the forefront of his mind.

**_You've bought yourself a few years,_** the creature spat at Stiles as he felt the first insistent tug of Astarael on his bones. **_But I'll remember your name,_ Stariel. **

"Mom!" Stiles tried to call again, but before he could, he was tumbling, falling quickly through space. The air was snatched out of his lungs and the tears jerked from his cheeks. Finally, breathless and dry-eyed, he was deposited roughly in abnormally still waters - the sixth of the nine precincts of Death, he realized. He pulled himself to his feet and felt grief, dark and deep, rise up to clog his throat.

He swallowed heavily, forcing down the sobs that wanted to escape. With shaking fingers, he re-fastened Astarael to the bandoleer, and then slung it over his shoulder, securing it as tightly as he could. Luckily, he knew the spells to exit each of the precincts, but he was fully aware of how difficult making it back to life was going to be. He gulped as he saw the Dead start to take notice of his presence, and unclipped Saraneth, the Binder, and Kibeth, the Walker. It was a pairing that, when rung correctly, bound the Dead and sent them walking further into Death – hopefully, though, Stiles wouldn’t need them – he planned to get out as quickly as he could. With Free Magic burning on his tongue, he sprinted through the sixth precinct and into the fifth, every footfall bringing him that much closer to Life.

**Author's Note:**

> Do not ask for updates - this is years old.


End file.
